


Strays

by SullenDragon



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, M/M, ts chatzy concrit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 23:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20072221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullenDragon/pseuds/SullenDragon
Summary: Incacha collects strays. His sentinel doesn't love it.





	Strays

Mato did not appreciate his guide’s tendency to collect strays. Every spring, Incacha brought home injured birds and abandoned kittens, insisting that they wouldn’t survive on their own.

Yes, he was right. But why did that mean that Mato had to spend valuable time feeding baby animals?

This latest one, however, was not a baby bird to be released in a few months, or even a jungle cat that could be trained as a hunter. This was a _man_. Incacha had brought home a traumatized white man who didn’t speak a word of Quechua.

“I’m not petting him when he wakes up crying,” he muttered to Incacha as they stood over their fire, cooking a hearty stew for dinner. Their guest was sleeping, tucked into the pallet in Mato and Incacha’s tent.

“That’s fine,” Incacha replied, focusing on the stew pot. “I’ll pet him.” He looked up at Mato and flashed him a bright, teasing smile.

Mato tangled a hand in Incacha’s long, straight hair and tugged gently. Dragging his guide and shaman into a kiss was the natural next step, and he ignored the rustling from the tent.

The white man emerged from the tent at about the same time that Mato smelled the stew beginning to overcook. He turned and stirred the stew before removing it from the fire entirely.

Standing directly outside the tent, the white man muttered quietly. Mato could not understand him, but Incacha was a master of languages, and his back straightened as he stepped between his sentinel and the stray. Sharp in tone, Incacha’s reply startled Mato. He pressed a hand against Incacha’s side and gave the visitor his best glare.

The white man’s shoulders slumped as he turned away, looking at Incacha and Mato over his shoulder as he took himself to sit a small distance away from the fire.

“He has much to learn,” Incacha said. “You know, yes, that he is like you?”

Mato snorted, disturbing the hair that had fallen out of his small ponytail.

“Yes, I know. He objects to... us?” Mato had never strayed into the cities of cement and steel, but Incacha had told him of those places, and the different rules that applied there.

“I am not sure if he objects, or if he does not understand. Give him time.” Incacha gripped Mato’s hand around the wooden spoon and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Fine. I will be nice to your stray sentinel. But don’t forget who your favorite watchman is!”

Incacha laughed and dragged his sentinel and their dinner to sit next to their new stray.

“Can I name him?” Mato asked, between bites.

“His name is James,” Incacha replied, smiling reassuringly when the white man looked up.

“He needs a proper Chopec name, if he is to be one of our sentinels.” Mato reached around his guide and gripped James’ shoulder firmly.

Mato thought, eyeing the pale skin, the short hair, the wary gaze. He thought of Quechua, of the few words he’d learned from Incacha for when Quechua didn’t have the right words.

“Enqueri,” Mato said. As if recognizing his title, Enqueri, Jim, the white sentinel met his gaze. Incacha leaned into his sentinel’s shoulder and petted his stray.


End file.
